We have all heard about those "Ah--HA!" moments and the "Hindsight is 20/20" moments. I have even had a little buyer's remorse here and there. I think there always comes a time when the moment I just had happens to all of us... let me set the stage:
When I was 16 or something like that, I saw a friend hit tiny metal thing with a hammer- BANG!!! As I wondered what that little thing was while listening to the high-pitched ringing of "stupid-induced deafness" in my head, I knew that trouble was brewing and I was going to find out the recipe. My "friends" told me all about how to take the primer out of a shotgun shell or how to empty a .22 bullet to make it safe (I use the word "safe" flippantly here- kind of a tongue-in-cheek thing as you will soon find out why). Anyway, Being the 14 year old genius (another tongue-in-cheek) I soon found the past-time of disabling bullets and hoarding the bang with (what I though was) none of the bite. I took my hoard to scout camp where true idiocy is fully embraced. I wowed my closer friends with a few expert bangs until one bang went super-nova and hot shrapnel entered my hand. Thinking of Monty Python's "Just a flesh wound" explicative, I slapped a band-aid over the puncture wound hoping it was just a rock piece that grazed me because I really had removed the lead bullet so it certainly could not have been the bullet (funny how I never found the primer that day). As you might have now guessed, I found the primer but not until 2 years latter when I couldn't shake the infection in my red and swollen hand. The doctor's eyes grew wide when he saw the x-ray and even wider when he removed the object from my hand and saw it was brass (a bullet shell hiding in a non-vetran is always surprising I guess).
I still remember my parents trying to interrogate me as I drifted in and out of consciousness in the recovery room. I don't know if I ever told them the whole story but the important thing is the scar. It reminds me of the moments that I despise. These are the moments when my forehead gets flatter as I smack it and say "What was I thinking?!" I have that interplay in my head of questioning whether or not I made a dumb mistake or just have a "learning experience" with a proverbial scar to ever remind me the dangers of romanticizing as I was thinking about being where I am today while being shocked with the truth starring me in the face.
Can you see what I smacked my head over?
I should have taken that job in Honolulu...